Spitfire Sorcery

Concert review: Juliette Lewis and the Romantiques at Culture Room.

Three times now, Juliette Lewis has brought her roaring rock circus to our market, and three times now we've shown up in numbers that are almost embarrassing — not to her but to us. Folks always complain about some national rock act or another not swinging through South Florida. Then when one of the best comes charging in, we barely let it register. Maybe it's just that folks still don't consider Lewis to be a bona fide rock singer. Or perhaps some people just need their beauty sleep on a Sunday. Whatever the reasons, showing up at half strength, as was the case this past Sunday at Culture Room, is shameful.

Thank Zeus that Lewis doesn't let a little thing like a non-sellout affect her. And thank Zeus's wife, Hera, that those who did show were keen enough to let the lass take control. Because once again, Lewis gave us one of the best shows of the year.

Channeling a cross between some Cherokee warrior princess and a voodoo high priestess, Lewis twirled and spun and jumped and strutted through a set that could have come straight from rock's glory days. Only different. Most of her set consisted of tracks off her latest LP, Terra Incognita. "Noche Sin Fin" opened the proceedings. But from then on, it's anyone's guess — because after that first song, I did what any self-respecting rock reviewer would do. I pocketed my pen and pad and just let Lewis overwhelm me, again.

And it was one overwhelming evening, equal parts rage and roar, smash and grab, rip and run — a full-throttle rush of blood and sweat and madness that began as a rumble and didn't end till it shattered every preconceived notion in the house. My only beef is that there weren't more souls in attendance for her to convert.

 
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